It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. “I have my methods. ’ There was a kind of aching hunger in Gerald’s gaze. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. His literary instincts were reviving. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. " "A Chinaman.
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